


At Your Service

by buckgaybarnes



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Chubby Newt Rights!, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Lingerie, M/M, Sexual Roleplay, cocktail waiter newt cursed my every thought for months
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 00:18:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckgaybarnes/pseuds/buckgaybarnes
Summary: Newt breaks out an old uniform for Halloween. Hermann is very enthusiastic.





	At Your Service

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pull This Thread, I've Come Undone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636642) by [AMRV_5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMRV_5/pseuds/AMRV_5). 



> maybe this is the second "newt prances around in a slutty halloween costume for hermann" fic i've written this season. what about it
> 
> inspired both by [AMRV_5's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMRV_5/pseuds/AMRV_5) fic where Newt gets a job as a cocktail waiter and [THIS art inspired by THAT fic LOL](http://waowoo.tumblr.com/post/176908075963/8-c-bunny-cocktail-waitress-newt-based-on-this) as well as an ask i got on tumblr, which was kind of about this, but not really. thank u anonymous ask

It’s an unorthodox Halloween tradition, Hermann supposes, but it’s theirs, and he loves it: every year, Newton buys some new, exciting, _revealing_ costume, and they shut off the front light and stick a bowl of candy on porch and Hermann spends the entire evening of the 31st making a mess of that costume _and_ his lovely husband. Last year, Newton dressed as a quote-unquote slutty astronaut and had Hermann fuck him wearing an elaborate tentacle sheath. The year before, Newton dressed in a little white nurse dress and stockings and examined Hermann _very_ thoroughly. This year, though, this year—

Newton comes to a stop in front of Hermann on the couch, hip jutted out at an angle, hand rested on the curve of it. He winks. “Well?” he says.

Newton’s _gorgeous_ , which is hardly news to Hermann. He’s in a tightly-cinched pink corset (low-cut enough that his lovely tattooed pecs poke out over the top, but not quite his dusty nipples), a pair of pink and bow-trimmed cotton panties, silky pink stockings that are clipped to a garter belt, and absurd pink heels; upon closer inspection, Hermann spies a pinkish-white cotton bunny tail just over Newton’s ass, the same pinkish-white of the faux bunny ears he’s placed atop his head. “Newton,” Hermann breathes, reaching out to stroke one of his silky, sturdy legs, but Newton takes a deliberate step back.

“Not _yet_ ,” he says, swatting playfully at Hermann’s arm. “This is only half the fun, dude.”

“Where’d you even find a getup like that?” Hermann says—because it doesn't look like the cheap, flimsy costumes Newton would find at a Halloween store—and he can feel himself practically drooling. As marvelous as Newton looks _in_ it, more than anything Hermann would like to get him _out_ of it, and then preferably get himself out of his own clothing, too. Newton relents and takes another step back towards Hermann, allows Hermann to fondle his thigh.

“I’ve had it for ages,” Newton says, and he sighs pleasantly when Hermann presses his lips to one warm, stocking-clad kneecap. “Would you believe that I had a _very_ brief stint as a cocktail waiter before I joined the PPDC?”

Hermann blinks away his haze of lust. “Surely you didn’t need the money?” Newton was MIT’s golden boy, Hermann is well aware; he could get whatever he wanted funded with hardly so much as an email.

“Not at all,” Newt says. He grins. “I just liked the attention. And horny guys tip a _lot_ when you’re young and cute. But that’s why—” he slaps his stomach, and it jiggles ever so slightly, and Hermann finally notices runs in the stockings, the way the corset strains around his waist, “—it’s a _little_ tight on me. I'm not as young and cute as I used to be.”

“Nonsense. Of course you are,” Hermann assures him, and then adds "Just as cute, at the very least," because Newton's hair is, perhaps, a little grayer than it used to be. He runs his fingers higher, over the edges of those panties. Half an inch or so and he could tease Newton’s cock where the head—already flushed red—peeks out atop a sweet little bow. Newton catches on, though, pushes Hermann away again gently.

“Gotta pay before you can touch the merchandise, honey,” he says, but he lets Hermann lean back in to mouth another kiss to his stocking and slip a hand up to stroke the back of his knee.

“Pay?” Hermann murmurs. Newton wriggles out of his grasp and clicks across the room to the hall closet, and Hermann’s so distracted watching the way the pink panties stretch across Newton’s round ass and the bounce of the tiny, fluffy pink-white tail that he doesn’t realize what Newton’s digging around for until Newton turns around with a wad of colorful paper Monopoly money in hand.

“With this,” Newton says, waving the little wad around.

He smiles coyly, but Hermann merely narrows his eyes. They own exactly one set of Monopoly. “Newton,” he says, “I certainly hope that isn’t from our Lord of the Rings edition.”

Newton clicks back across the room and sets one leg up on the couch next to Hermann, posing so that Hermann gets a whole eyeful of his tight panties. “Maybe,” he says, and then waves the little wad under Hermann’s nose. “But—”

“It’s _out of print_.”

Newton sticks out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “They’re on Ebay for, like, twenty bucks,” he says. He lowers his voice, leans in. “Come on, _baby_ ,” he says, and strokes one of his hands down his corset, down to the top of the panties, fingers ghosting just over his cock. He bites his lip. Hermann feels his own jaw go slack.

“Yes,” he says quickly. “Ah. Yes. Alright.”

Newton quickly pulls his leg away, thrusts the Monopoly money at Hermann, and winks. “Five minutes,” he promises, and then clicks off into the kitchen, nearly stumbling in those ridiculous hot pink heels.

Hermann waits impatiently; Newton’s mere presence (and the visual of those _stockings_ ) has left him half-hard in his slacks, and the promise of _more_ —

When Newton struts back in, he’s holding a little notepad and pencil, and—Hermann notices, with a sharp jolt of arousal—he’s put on glittery lip gloss as well. Hermann wants to kiss him, to smear it across his lips, to pull Newton into his lap and lick and bite it off. Hermann wants, Hermann wants, Hermann wants. “Hi, handsome,” Newton says, batting his eyelashes flirtatiously. “I’m Newt, and I’ll be your server tonight.” He brings the pencil up to his mouth and, very deliberately, sucks on the eraser.

“Newt,” Hermann says dumbly, unsure of whether to stare at Newton’s glossy, puckered lips, or his silky thighs, or the bulge of his erection (Newton is just as affected already, it seems). “Hello. I’m—”

Newt gives a large, exaggerated gasp. “ _I_ know who you are!” he says. “You’re that rich and famous scientist Dr. Gottlieb, aren’t you?”

“Rich and famous?” Hermann echoes—Newton has begun dragging his lips over the pencil eraser again. “Ah—I—”

“Rich and famous,” Newton confirms, batting his eyelashes again. “Didn’t you save the _whole world_?”

Perhaps belatedly, Hermann realizes he should be agreeing. Roleplaying always has a tendency to catch Hermann off-guard, usually because Newton always throws himself so _wildly_ into it that Hermann’s too aroused to remember his character. “I did,” Hermann says, and he flashes Newton the type of smile a rich and famous scientist should flash. “Yes, I’m Dr. Gottlieb.”

Newton bends over until his face is within an inch of Hermann’s, then runs a hand through his hair, then down to Hermann’s chest. “You’re even _hotter_ than you are in pictures,” he purrs, and a warm flush spreads down Hermann's neck. Newton flicks open Hermann’s top button. “Make yourself comfortable, honey,” he says, and then pushes Hermann’s blazer off his shoulders and to the couch cushions. “First drink’s on the house.”

Newton struts off, then, leaving Hermann starry-eyed and even harder than before, and he comes back after another few minutes (and a suspicious _pop_ ) with a flute of champagne. Hermann hasn’t the foggiest idea where Newton managed to hide a bottle in their fridge. Newton stops just in front of him, waist at Hermann’s eye level. “Drink’s free, like I said,” he says, “ _but_ if you wanted some company…” He looks at the Monopoly money, which Hermann nearly forgot he had. He fishes out a paper $20 and tries to hand it to Newton, but Newton shakes his head. “Don’t be shy,” he says with a grin, and lifts his left leg up _agonizingly_ slowly to rest next to Hermann on the sofa once more.

Hermann—face burning, almost as if he _himself_ has forgotten Newton is not actually his waiter at a cocktail bar and a total stranger—tucks the bill into Newton’s stocking garter, and Newton chooses to squeeze himself between Hermann and his armrest rather than take the other half of the sofa. He raises the glass to Hermann’s lips, and Hermann parts them obediently, lets Newton tip the champagne into his mouth. When he’s swallowed, Newton sets the flute on the side table and wipes a bit of it from the corner of Hermann’s mouth with his thumb. He licks the digit, not breaking eye contact with Hermann. “How much for a kiss?” Hermann says, voice catching in his throat as he watches, and Newton tosses his head back and _giggles_.

“Eager,” Newton chastises, and he hops back to his feet. Hermann mourns the loss of closeness to Newton’s soft, warm body, but the way Newton stretches a moment later—shoulders rolling, back arching, groaning _far_ louder than necessary—makes up for it. Then Newton turns around, giving Hermann an eyeful of that lovely ass. The cotton tail is dangling; its pin’s come partially undone from the back of the panties, it appears. “Hey,” Newton says, glancing at Hermann over his shoulder, “could you fix that for me?”

Hermann nods wordlessly, and Newton backs up. His ass is even lovelier under Hermann’s palms, and if Hermann squeezes and kneads at it and slips his fingers _just_ under the edges of the lace until Newton’s emitting soft, breathy sighs, it’s all in the name of being properly thorough in re-pinning the tail. “There,” Hermann says when he finishes. He can’t resist giving Newton’s right cheek a little slap, and Newton squeaks. Hermann slips another crumpled Monopoly bill under one of Newton’s garters for good measure, and that’s when he notices the other one has come undone.

“Oh _no_ ,” Newton says, noticing too, and he bends down to fix it. After a few minutes of exaggerated struggling, he turns wide eyes on Hermann. “You did _such_ a good job with the tail,” he says. “Do you think…?” Newton squeezes himself into the corner of the couch again and flings one stockinged leg across Hermann’s lap. Hermann skims trembling fingers up Newton’s ankle, his calf, his thigh, finally snagging the top of the pink stocking and re-securing one garter, then the other. Newton does not pull his leg away one Hermann finishes, nor does Hermann pull his fingers away from Newton’s body. “Thanks, honey,” Newton says, smiling sweetly.

Hermann very carefully selects a $100 bill from the stack of paper money, then slips that into the garter along with the other two. “What does that get me?” he says. Newton looks at it, considering. Then he tugs down the top of his corset until two pink, pierced nipples are showing, biting his glossy lower lip as if he’s even _remotely_ shy. “Gorgeous,” Hermann sighs, and then sticks another $100 bill into the garter. “You’re a lovely thing, Newt.”

“I was hoping you’d be a huge spender,” Newton says. He begins dragging his fingers down his chest, circling lazily over his right nipple, and he shivers when he pinches it. “ _Oh_.”

“Yes,” Hermann breathes, unable to tear his eyes away, and—fumbling with the money—pulls out two $500s and tries to cram them into the garter as well.

But Newton shakes his head, stopping him before he can, and then drags Hermann in by his collar until their noses are bumping. “For that,” Newton says, closing his fingers around Hermann’s that clench the paper money, then dragging them slowly down to the elastic band of the panties so Hermann can tuck it in there instead, “you can do whatever you want to me, baby.”

“ _Newt_ ,” Hermann groans, and, all self-restraint finally snapping, drags Newton into his lap and grinds his erection up against the cleft of Newton’s ass. He wants to _touch_ Newton, to claim him, and he tears at the laces of Newton’s pink corset and tugs the cotton bunny tail and takes two handfuls of his ass and starts _squeezing_.

“Jeez, dude!” Newton squeaks again, eyes widening and dropping character for a moment, and then he’s back in his flirty waiter persona and grinding his ass down just like that. “Oh, _Dr. Gottlieb_ ,” he moans, bracing himself on the sofa on either side of Hermann’s head. “Your brain’s not the _only_ big think you’re packing, is it, honey?”

Hermann very nearly dissolves into giggles. “You’re _quite_ the little tart,” he says, grinning, and he smacks Newton’s ass for the second time that night.

“Doctor!” Newton gasps, the picture of scandalized, but Hermann can see the way his cock twitches in his panties, how precome beads at the head, the smile creeping across his face. His hips don’t lose their rhythm, and Hermann’s readying himself to deliver another light swat when Newton leans in and kisses him, tongue pushing insistently into his mouth. He leaves glitter gloss smeared across Hermann’s lips and a lingering taste of artificial bubblegum when he parts, and Hermann would’ve chased after him for more had Newton not attached himself to Hermann’s neck instead, kissing and mouthing and sucking at it. He’s getting lip gloss over Hermann's skin, too, staining Hermann’s collar with pink glitter.

“What will your _husband_ say when he sees what a mess you are?” Newton purrs in his ear, and then gasps “ _Ah_ —!”, arching his back and pushing into Hermann’s grasp when Hermann starts squeezing his ass a little harder. “Oh! He’ll—he’ll _know_ you’ve been running around with other men on him.”

Newton’s mouth is glitter-smeared and hanging open tantalizingly, so Hermann lifts two fingers to it. Newton takes the hint and begins sucking eagerly, rolling his tongue over the knuckles and moaning around them, and when they’re properly wet, Hermann slips them down past the cotton tail and the elastic of the panties to rub teasingly at Newton’s hole instead. “Tragically,” Hermann declares, as Newton whimpers and writhes in his lap, his cock leaking steadily onto Hermann’s slacks, “I am _quite_ single. Not a husband to speak of.”

Newton is clear-headed enough to look at him in mock-sympathy. “That _is_ tragic,” he says. “A smart, sexy genius guy like you single? Without anyone to appreciate—” he gropes Hermann’s cock through his slacks, “ _—this_?”’

Fireworks burst in front of Hermann’s eyes. “Touch me,” he begs, and Newton starts palming at his cock frantically, panting, and when they kiss again it’s rough and messy and bubblegum-flavored.

“Yeah,” Newton whines against Hermann’s mouth when Hermann finally pushes a finger into his hot, tight ass, curling and crooking it in every way he can think of that Newton likes. Newton rubs his cock a little harder, grinds his ass down against Hermann’s hand little harder. He’s heavenly to look at (sweat on his forehead and colorful chest, hair tousled, rabbit ears half-off, glasses slipping down his nose, nipples peeking out over the top of his corset) and even more heavenly to touch (soft pudge, pink silk straining over his thighs). “Oh, yeah, _yeah_ , honey, that’s—”

“Come away with me,” Hermann blurts out, and immediately blushes. “Er. I mean—”

Newton stills for a moment, then laughs delightedly. “You want me to  _run away_ with you?” he says. “Fuck, yes, you’re so fucking romantic—oh, c’mere, Hermann—”

Their next kiss is a lot gentler—less clashing teeth and bumping noses—and Newton finally drops his role entirely to kiss and coo at Hermann instead as he strokes him to orgasm (“best goddamn husband on earth,” Newton says, and “so good to me,” and “love you _so_ much,” and Hermann comes in his pants with an embarrassing little noise). Hermann returns the favor, continuing to fuck Newton with one finger as he rubs him off through his panties, and Newton stains his corset and Hermann’s shirt when he comes with loud, enthusiastic praise of Hermann a few seconds later.

Newton enjoys his afterglow sprawled across Hermann’s lap, careful to avoid putting his weight on Hermann’s left leg, and Hermann contents himself with petting at Newton’s stockings and occasionally stealing a lazy kiss. Monopoly money liters the couch cushions and the carpet, and the bills Hermann showered Newton with are beyond crumpled (and, in the case of the ones Hermann shoved into Newton’s panties, likely unsalvageable). Hermann doesn’t _really_ care, truthfully. “Happy Halloween, love,” he says, and presses a little kiss to Newton’s cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at usual spot (hermannsthumb, where i post more fic and also always take fic prompts!) and twitter at equally usual spot (hermanngaylieb)!


End file.
